


Full Circle

by baroque_mongoose



Category: Girl Genius
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-24 12:29:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2581484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baroque_mongoose/pseuds/baroque_mongoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Long ago, in Paris, Ardsley Wooster was forced to kill a man for the first time.  Though he has sometimes had to kill again since, the repercussions of this incident have never really left him.</p>
<p>And now, as Sir Ardsley, the past confronts him when he least expects it, and he must face it once more.  He does not believe he deserves to survive that confrontation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Full Circle

“Have you met the new Russian Ambassador yet?” asked Gil, apparently out of the blue.

I raised an eyebrow at him. “You have the advantage of me for once, Gil. I didn't know there was a new Russian Ambassador.”

“Well, you were surely aware there was a new Tsar,” he said, with a sidelong grin. “If not, I shall have to send you back to England as no longer fit for your original purpose.”

I laughed. “Yes. Naturally I knew that.” We had both met him when he was merely Prince Arkadii, and both of us had agreed that Russia looked as though it would be in safe hands under his rule. “But I am nonetheless surprised that he would recall Madame Levkovskaya. She is very shrewd and experienced.”

“It is possible that she may have decided to take advantage of the change of rule to retire,” Gil suggested. “She's not young.”

“True,” I agreed. “So, who is her replacement?”

“I'm not certain,” Gil replied. “I believe it's a man, but I haven't yet met him myself. I dare say he will be up here in the very near future.”

“Well, I had better go and pay my respects to him,” I said.

“And then you'll give me a quick briefing on him before I meet him?” asked Gil, with a swift grin.

“I could not possibly comment,” I replied. I meant “of course!”, and he knew it.

As soon as I returned to ground level, I went and presented myself at the Russian Embassy and asked if it might be convenient to see the new Ambassador. It was, though I was kept waiting a little while. I did not mind; Madame Levkovskaya had always been in the habit of doing the same thing, and I had long ago concluded that it was simply standard practice. Eventually, I was shown into what had formerly been Madame Levkovskaya's office, where the new Ambassador was seated behind the desk. He was about my age, perhaps a little younger, with a large but well-kept beard and earnest brown eyes that glinted behind a small pair of pince-nez.

He stood up to greet me. “Sir Ardsley,” he said, with a heavy accent. He bowed.

I bowed back, and addressed him in Russian. “It is an honour to meet you, sir,” I said.

He switched back, with obvious relief, to his native language. “His Imperial Majesty the Tsar sends his personal greetings, Sir Ardsley,” he said. “Please. Take a seat.”

Tsar Arkadii had said he would remember me. Clearly, he had. I was not entirely certain whether the impression I had made on him had been positive or negative; but it must have been quite strong.

“I am deeply honoured by such attention,” I replied, sitting down as he did. He had not yet told me his own name, but that would come soon enough. The Tsar's greeting, as a matter of protocol, had to be given first.

“My name is Pavel Ivanovich Kuchtanin,” he said.

Everything around me went black for a moment.

“Kuchtanin,” I murmured. I do not think I have ever lost my self-control to such an extent, but, I assure you, I could not help it.

“You know the name? It is not a common one.”

“Yes. I know the name. I am sorry, Pavel Ivanovich. I was extremely rude just now. I did not intend to be so.”

“No, Sir Ardsley, you were not rude, but you were shocked. Extremely shocked. I saw it in your face. What is wrong?” He was all concern. The irony stabbed through me like a knife.

“Pavel Ivanovich,” I asked, “do you have a relative who was killed in Paris?”

“Yes,” he replied, astonished. “My father. Some thirteen years ago.”

“Your father.” I bowed my head.

There was a long, heavy silence. It was Kuchtanin who broke it, and for that I was grateful, because I was having difficulty finding words.

“You knew him?”

If he does not let me leave this embassy alive, I thought, it will be no more than justice.

“No,” I replied wretchedly. “I killed him.”

He stared at me.

“Why?”

“Because he was about to kill me,” I replied simply.

“And why would he have done that?” Kuchtanin was clearly more bewildered than anything else.

“Because he had stolen some papers, which I was trying to get him to return,” I said. “I'd been told to let him go free if he surrendered them. I would have been happy to do that, but he would not. He put a bullet in my shoulder. The next would have gone in my heart. But why do you ask these questions? He was your father, and I killed him.”

“Yes, but... you are not talking about the man I knew as my father,” said Kuchtanin, slowly. “My father was a peaceful, honest man. He was not one to steal, or to aim to kill anyone. And yet you are telling the truth, or you believe you are. Your face is full of agony. I do not understand.”

It was difficult to think in the circumstances, but I had to do my best. “What were you told about your father's death?” I asked, carefully.

“Why, that he drowned in the Seine,” he replied. “He was leaning too far over the parapet of a bridge one night, and he fell in.”

“And I suppose his body was not recovered?” I asked.

He gave me a strange, penetrating look. “No, Sir Ardsley.”

“That is not how he died,” I said. “And I am not surprised they would not bring you back his body to be buried. They will have buried him in Paris.” I paused. “I could, I think, make some very small and belated amends by helping you to discover exactly where; but if you require my life of me, I can have no complaint.”

“Sir Ardsley, I do not require your life of you,” he said, at once. “I require only all the information you can give me about the death of my father, and I can read in your face that even that will be a harsh penance. Tell me, first of all, how you killed him.”

“I ran him through with a sword.”

“With a sword? When he had a gun?”

“That was why I had no choice but to kill him. I had no gun. If I had spared him, he would have killed me.”

Kuchtanin nodded. “And why were you trying to recover stolen property? You are British. You were surely not in the Parisian gendarmerie?”

“Indeed not, Pavel Ivanovich,” I replied. “I was a British spy at the time, working in Paris. And your father was a Russian spy.”

He looked down at his hands, which lay on top of the desk. “We were not told,” he said, harshly.

“My relatives would not have been told either, if fortune had favoured him rather than me,” I replied quietly. “No doubt they would have been told some similar fairy tale to explain why my body could not be sent back to England, full of bullets as it would then have been.”

He looked back up at me, and now, incredibly, there was genuine sympathy in his eyes. I was moved to the depths of my soul.

“After he died,” he said, in a faraway, reminiscent voice, “they gave me a job in the Diplomatic Service. I had been doing well as a clerk, so I always assumed that it was simply that someone had noticed that and thought I might be suited to a better position. Now, I am not so sure.”

“Intelligence services do not often have a conscience,” I replied. “But that move, I suppose, cost them nothing.”

“You are cynical, Sir Ardsley,” he said, but gently.

“Not by nature, Pavel Ivanovich,” I replied, with a sigh. “Only as much as I am forced to be.” I paused. “And you are not vindictive. That I do not deserve, but I am grateful beyond all words.”

“What if I were? It would not bring my father back. Nor would it undo the remainder of the past. Strange as it may seem, I am grateful to you too, Sir Ardsley. You have brought me a gift that my own country has been denying me for many years. You have brought me the truth.”

“But, surely, a painful truth,” I said.

“I would rather have a painful truth than a soothing lie,” he replied. “And I will not lie to you; I shall weep tonight for the father I believed I had. But tomorrow, I shall move forwards again, because who my father was does not change who I am. I am still Pavel Ivanovich, not Ivan Vassilievich.”

“I have killed him twice,” I said, in despair.

“No, Sir Ardsley. The first time you killed a man about whom, it seems, I knew nothing; and here and now, you have killed an illusion which was better dead. Somewhere in between the two, there was my father. But you have never killed him more than once.”

“Once is bad enough,” I replied.

“The Seine has taken the blame for his death for many years now. I am happy to let it keep it for the purposes of accounting. You, I think, have tormented yourself enough. As I said before, we cannot bring him back.”

“After I realised I had killed him,” I said, in a low voice, “I was horrified at what I had done. Even the fact that I had saved my own life, and that of another person who was present, seemed unimportant for a few moments. All I could think was that those papers he had on him were not worth anyone's life.”

“Who was the other person?” he asked.

“Princess Orlov.”

Kuchtanin seemed to struggle with himself for a moment. Then he said, “Sir Ardsley, you have been honest with me so far. Give me, please, one more honest answer, and do not think to spare me any pain. Was my father trying to kill the Princess?”

I looked away from him. “He was.”

“Because the Princess knew about the Tsarevich?”

“Yes, for that reason. But he was not on his own. I believe every Russian agent who was aware of the Tsarevich's... nature, shall we say... was out to kill the Princess.”

He looked at me keenly. “Now I know where I have seen you before!” he exclaimed.

I was startled. “You have? I am afraid I do not recognise you, Pavel Ivanovich.”

“That does not surprise me. We did not speak to each other. But I was on Castle Wulfenbach when the Tsarevich's secret was finally revealed to the world, and you were the young man who went to comfort His Imperial Majesty, who was at that time the Prince Arkadii, in his shock and grief at discovering that his supposed uncle was a mere clank with a preserved head.”

“I was,” I replied. “And, at that time, he said he would remember me. I am honoured that he did.”

“And... my father... would have killed the Princess to preserve that ghastly secret?”

“Do not blame him for that,” I said, warmly. “He would not have had a choice in the matter. If he had been in a position to kill her and let her go, his own life would have been forfeit.”

Kuchtanin looked at me thoughtfully. “You know that of which you speak, I do not doubt.”

“Sadly, yes,” I replied. “It never happened to me in person. I have been sent to do many unpleasant things in my life, but not to kill. I believe they felt I was not ruthless enough.”

“That, Sir Ardsley, is extremely obvious, even on such a short acquaintance,” he said. “How did you survive as a spy?”

“A combination of quick thinking and permanent worry,” I replied.

He stroked his beard. “Yes. You do strike me as being intelligent. And you have just proved beyond all doubt that, unlike intelligence services in general, you have a conscience.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You are driving at something, Pavel Ivanovich.”

He suddenly grinned. “That purple Jäger who so dramatically slipped and fell, and had to catch the back of the Tsarevich's collar for support, thus accidentally... is that the word I want? … revealing his secret to the whole world. How well do you know that Jäger?”

I felt like telling him everything out of sheer relief, but long-standing professionalism won over. I put on my best wooden face. “Maxim? Oh, he's a good friend. During the time of the uprisings I stayed with him and most of the other Jägers in a safe place for a while. Why do you ask?”

“Well, only because when you went to console my Prince, I caught a flicker of something in your eyes that might almost have been guilt,” replied Kuchtanin. “But it could, of course, merely have been a trick of the light.”

“It could,” I agreed.

“If I thought you were behind such a trick as that,” he said, thoughtfully, “I think I should have to ask you to consider defecting to us. It enabled His Imperial Majesty to make all the arrangements he needed before he came to the throne, since he now knew that he would do so as soon as his grandfather died. Although it was a shock, and indeed also a great embarrassment, at the time, it was needed.”

“Well, I couldn't possibly defect,” I replied, “so I think we shall just have to assume that it was nothing more than a fortunate accident. Though, of course, should you wish to thank Maxim, I could find him easily enough.”

“It was a filthy secret,” he said. “And in the royal house, at that. His Imperial Majesty cannot forgive his grandparents for that. His grandfather, of course, is now dead, but the Dowager Empress... he will not see her. She lives as befits one of her position, naturally, but she is barred from the palace.”

“I hope he will find it in his heart to forgive her,” I said.

“So do I, but that cannot be forced.”

I thought for a moment. “I offered to help you to find your father's burial place. Do you wish me to do that?”

He shook his head. “No. I am not going to go to Paris. The man I truly loved as my father is buried here.” He put a hand on his heart. “Nonetheless, I appreciate your offer. It is well made.”

“Then, is there anything else I can do to make amends to you?”

“I believe you have already made amends. Not to me, but to His Imperial Majesty, which is as good or better.”

“That, if you recall,” I said, “was...”

“A mere fortunate accident. Oh, yes. Of course.” He smiled. “But, if His Imperial Majesty should ever require another fortunate accident, I shall come to you.”

I could not suppress a smile in return. “Very well. I shall be happy for you to do that.”

“Let us bury the past, Sir Ardsley,” he said. “This has not been a pleasant meeting for either of us; therefore, let us speak no more of it and be friends from now on.”

“You are a good man, Pavel Ivanovich,” I replied, with feeling. “You put me to shame. If someone had killed my own father, I do not think I could be so generous.”

“But your father did not die because he was prepared to kill someone for a terrible secret,” said Kuchtanin. “No more of this, though. Not another word on the matter. We have both suffered, and it is enough. And now all is as well as it could be in this twisted world, and my Prince, whom I have always loved as liege lord, sits on the throne of Russia as my Tsar; and he sits as firmly there as he does because of a fortunate accident.”

I bowed my head. “His Imperial Majesty is blessed with a remarkable servant.”

“He is such a person as to inspire loyalty in those around him. But you have met him. You will have seen that for yourself.”

I had. I could understand what he said.

“The Jäger, Maxim,” he said, suddenly. “You say he is your friend. Do you know of anything that would especially please him?”

“I shall consider that,” I replied. “However, I should perhaps remind you that there were two Jägers present, and if the other one had not tripped and dropped his tray of drinks, Maxim would not have run to assist.”

“Ah. Of course. That is quite true. And the name of the other Jäger is...?”

“Dimo.”

“And what, do you think, might brighten the life of this Dimo a little?”

“It is difficult to say,” I replied. “They both belong to Lady Heterodyne's personal guard. Baron Wulfenbach borrowed them, as it were, for additional security to protect your party. Lady Heterodyne treats them very well. But perhaps... perhaps a few roubles, if you wished to send a small token of esteem.”

“They are Jägers. If I send money, would they not simply drink it?”

“They might, but would that be a problem?” I asked mildly. “I am certain they would drink the health of His Imperial Majesty Tsar Arkadii.”

He smiled. “Very well. So be it. And they would, I suppose, be in Mechanicsburg at the moment? I shall send them a small token of appreciation by way of Lady Heterodyne's envoy.”

“They will be wherever the Lady Heterodyne is,” I replied, “therefore, as I understand it, they will be in Mechanicsburg.”

And if he sends money to Maxim and Dimo, I thought, they will split it with Oggie, who was, I believe, a little upset that there was no part for him in that performance. That will be some consolation to him, at least.

“I was forgetting,” he said. “You are English. Therefore, it is your custom to shake hands, is it not?”

“It is,” I replied.

He reached a hand across the desk. I took it without a word.

I do not think either of us will find it easy to bury the past. But, nonetheless, we have agreed to do it.


End file.
